August Burning (Book 3): Last Stand (15 page)

“Wilder, boy! God damnit! This doesn’t happen to you and me, you dig?”

“We’ve been through some tough fuckin’ times, but there’s no way out of this, buddy. We’ve come far enough.”

Duke kicked the locker with his steel-toed boot. “Fuck that! I want to live! I want to sleep with beautiful girls and get drunk at bonfires!”

Wilder grimaced and continued cleaning his shotgun as he sat on a little wooden stool. He shot a glance across the hall at the vibrating doors and moaning masses of infected. “You haven’t done any of those things, Dukie.”

Duke’s red face pouted painfully. “That’s the damn point.”

“You heard the man, Dukie. You heard Jaxton.”

“So what?

Wilder dropped his shotgun on the floor and rose suddenly. “So what? So what? If it wasn’t for him, we’d still be wandering the wild, eating rotting food and hiding in ditches beside the road. And most likely dead. Don’t forget how he took us in. Sheltered us, gave us food, befriended us, and trusted us. He gave us a chance to survive.”

Duke slammed the locker again with an open palm. “And here we are now, trapped and waiting to die.”

“Sir?”

Jaxton and Joseph stopped ten feet from them, crossing a perpendicular hallway at speed under the light of a single torch.

“Jax, there’s no doors down that way. This here’s the last door on the south side. Boiler room is down there.”

They could see Jaxton and Joseph whispering to each other. Finally Jaxton walked cautiously closer. “I’ve always trusted you boys.”

Duke and Wilder felt their backs straightening unconsciously. They could not deny their commander.

Jaxton continued, “We’ve always had each others backs, have we not?”

Wilder stepped forward, closer to the torch. “Since the beginning.”

Jaxton sighed deeply. “I need your help one last time.”

Chapter Twelve

The Citadel

Jaxton tried to enter quietly.

He removed his soiled jacket and stripped to the waist, as always aware how much thinner he was. He found his way to Adira’s cot in the dark and lay down beside her.

Her breathing shifted, and she rolled over groggily. “Did the boiler turn on for a bit? I couldn’t tell.”

Jaxton ran his finger through her hair. “No, no. Sorry, I was just checking all the doors. They’re guarding them on shifts. Let’s try and get some sleep. Dawn is in a few hours.”

Dawn never came.

Jaxton was lying next to Adira in a soiled cot, listening to her breathing, when there was a thud from the floor below. Adira’s breathing changed immediately.

“Is it happening?”

Jaxton steeled himself and snatched his rifle. “Stay with me, remember?”

The pair rose with their masks, and raced down the halls.

“Adira! Is it happening?” Kylie emerged from another room, her bright eyes glistening.

“Where’s your mask?”

Kylie hesitated and stumbled, “I lost it!”

Adira winced and kept them moving, “Stay behind me Kylie.”

They emerged into the lobby, where most of the survivors had gathered. At the end of the wide entrance, a series of glass doors shook repeatedly. The infected had been slamming into them for hours. Near the bottom, one of the doors had already been broken, and its wooden substitute was cracked.

“Was that there before?”

“Of course it was.”

“It definitely was not.”

Jaxton saw Bennett, and raced to him. “Are they coming through?”

Bennett never took his eyes off the door. “That crack wasn’t there before.”

Adira looked to Jaxton, whose eyes were alight with fire. “Get ready!”

At his word, the survivors jumped into action, preparing a firing line of gaunt, dirty humans bristling with black firearms. The door thudded again, and the wood at the base splintered further. To the left, a crack appeared in one of the windows.

“Hold your fire till my mark,” Jaxton growled, nodding at Duke and Wilder, who kneeled in front. Bennett stood close, his hands on a maul.

“Let’s get it on with,” Troy growled through his delirium. He positioned his elbow on the armrest of his wheel chair and tried to steady his shotgun.

The wood frame cracked again, and then gave way, caving under a wave of flesh. The infected burst through the breach, stuffing bodies into the tiny hole.

“Drop ‘em.”

The survivors opened fire.

The infected stormed into the breach, and surged into the hallway. The line fired and reloaded, their spent casings tumbling on the tile floor. As the bodies began to pile up at the end of the hall, Jaxton saw a second window break. Within sixty seconds the firing line was engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

Jaxton saw Wilder lodge his axe into a massive infected’s burly skull before he was barreled over. Duke made to assist him, when he was blindsided by three others.

The survivors roared into the counterattack, seeking to reseal the doors. Jaxton could scarcely join, so fixated was he on Adira’s safety. He kept them back, near the rear, where they cut down any that managed to break through the first line. Joseph stood on a table beside them, firing potshots over the struggling masses.

For a moment, the survivors had the advantage. Their blood was on fire, and their steel was cold. With a maniacal disregard for safety the labored in the breach, sweating and heaving. The men and women, heavily armored and defending their home, used every ounce of the adrenaline coursing through their bulging veins. The frail and stunted infected hit the tile with wet snaps. Jaxton saw Billy tumble in the mess, and Annabelle charge in to save him, her hair in a tight bun as always.

“Adira!”

Jaxton’s neck bulged with delirious fear as he saw Adira charge into the fray. She lodged her tomahawks into an infected’s neck, then barreled over another. Drawing a large knife, she gutted a third and fourth, still moving across the floor. “Kylie!” She screamed.

Jaxton saw her. He saw Kylie’s shaved head bobbing up and down across the high school’s lobby. She was in trouble.

“What the hell is she doing!” Bennett shrieked.

“It’s that girl!” Jaxton cried. He dodged a fellow survivor’s axe and tripped. Rising from the tile, he found himself face to face with a massive specimen. The man’s 6 foot 5 inch frame was at least three feet across at its widest. Jaxton thought it was grinning at him.

Then there was a spray of blood.

Jaxton wiped his goggles, and saw Bennett’s wood-splitting maul stuck in the man’s shoulder. The infected reached out and grabbed Bennett by the neck. The arm fell off at the elbow, struck by Wilder’s rusty hatchet. Duke stuck a makeshift spear into the man’s gut and wrenched it up, spilling its putrid contents onto the slick floor.

Jaxton wrenched his head around, and saw Adira closing the distance to Kylie. The girl was fighting frantically on the fringes, lashing out with the butt of her magnum and a set of brass knuckles. There was blood all over her face, and she wasn’t wearing a mask.

The fool.

Jaxton made a mad dash, trusting in his armor to protect him. He dropped his shoulder and slammed his way across the melee. “Adira, no!”

Adira grabbed Kylie by the arm and yanked her back, “Kylie, come ON!”

At the same instant Jaxton reached them, and kicked Kylie in the stomach. He winced as she hit the floor. As Adira turned to scream at him, Kylie dropped her weapons and began to convulse.

Jaxton pointed, and Adira screamed. Closing the distance in two seconds, Jaxton smashed her face with the butt of his own tomahawk. Her head hit the tile, out cold. With a single strike he cut down to her spinal column and severed it.

“Move!”

The pair moved back through the combat, and sought out their friends. There was Bennett, Wilder, and Duke, standing in front of the great beast. Jaxton’s heart swelled with pride at his friends’ victory.

Then Jaxton saw it.

An infected, who had just seconds ago been a survivor, stumbled towards the line, her blond hair slick with blood. The man in front of her, clearly her friend, could not bring himself to take her down. He fell under her advance, and the others reeled. The survivors were turning in front of them, becoming the enemy where seconds before they had been dearest friends.

Despite Jaxton’s speech, and despite the bravado, the line cracked. The survivors spilled backwards, splintering into tiny groups that each poured their own way. The infected were close on their heels, pouring into the Citadel by the hundreds.

“Drag me back!” Troy screamed, his eyes still focused forward. One of his Eagle troopers grabbed his wheelchair from behind and pulled it towards safety. As it moved, Troy let his shotgun sing. The pellets scattered and ripped through the flesh of the foe. “Get behind me!”

“Help Troy! Someone help me carry him!”

Troy yanked his head around, so his long hair whipped him in the face. “NO! I’ll hold them! Go!”

“Run! GO!”

“There’s too many!”

Bennett pushed Wilder out of the way and flung has maul across the room, where it struck a pack of marauding infected. “NOW!”

Jaxton took Adira by the hand, and they sprinted to the stairwell. Bennett, Wilder, Joseph, and Duke followed close behind.

As Jaxton ran, he looked back. Troy was pumping round after round into the incoming enemy. Jaxton never saw him again.

The screams and crunch of steel on bone echoed throughout the long hallways, emanating from every direction.

“Where are we going?!”

Jaxton slammed into the stairwell doors and led them to the second story. “They’re right behind us!” Wilder roared, and faltered. His assault rifle cracked three times, intensely loud in the closed space.

Jaxton and Adira spun on their heels and steadied their bodies against the recoil of their own small arms. The targets tumbled and fell back down the stairs, creating a blockage for the coming tide. Their brethren spilled over the corpses and dragged themselves forward, covered in thick red sludge.

“It’s clear up top!” Bennett roared, barreling through the doors.

The group poured out onto the second level, breathless. Duke’s hands were trembling, dripping with blood.

“Wipe your damn hands! Where are your gloves Duke?”

His teeth chattered as he attempted to calm himself. “I’m fine. I’m fine!”

“Don’t touch your fucking face.”

Wilder slammed another clip into his rifle and flicked it to fully automatic.

“Last magazine.”

“Make it count.”

“We need to get to the roof.”

Jaxton removed his mask. “Follow me.”

The group’s boots created a chorus of thuds as they trotted across the hall. Another trio of survivors came hurtling towards them, from the opposite doors. They screamed and waved their arms, and Jaxton faltered.

The doors further on burst open, and a mass of infected came tearing towards them from a distance of one hundred feet.

Bennett re-emerged from behind the corner, “We can’t go back!” The trio of survivors burst through their group. “Not that way!”

Jaxton ground his teeth and raised his smoking rifle. “Forward.”

The group stalked forward at a steady lope, to the music of tumbling casings. The foe faltered and reeled, their torsos exploding in sludge. Joseph, Wilder, Duke, Bennett, Adira and Jaxton strode forward slowly, letting their fingers slip over easy triggers.

Suddenly, the path was clear. The group rounded the corner and opened into a sprint, hearing more pursuers behind them. They tore through another set of double doors.

“Are they behind you?!” A man screamed, his body prone on the slick tile. His body was covered in black, and he readied a heavy machine gun on the floor. His compatriot frantically worked to load a strip magazine from an ammunition box.

“Hold those doors! Get up against them!” The man cried. His compatriot pointed forward and shrieked. The heavy machine gun opened up, spitting huge rounds.

Jaxton and Bennett slammed their bodies against the double doors. They felt pressure from the other side, and heard the scratching. “A little help over here!”

Wilder, Duke, Joseph, and Adira joined them. The survivors struggled with their unseen adversaries on the opposite side, each willing the other to break first.

“You’re runnin’ out Timmy!”

“How much is left?! How much is left!?”

The weapon clicked empty. “FUCK!”

Jaxton saw it, and flicked his head. “Everybody run! Third story straight ahead!”

They abandoned the door and jumped over the machine gun, leaving it smoking in the hallway. The infected burst through behind them.

“Lion!? Lion!?” Two men stopped suddenly near the doors ahead, covered in makeshift armor and armed with mauls. Jaxton could see their patches. “Clear the road!”

The men turned immediately and pushed open the doors to the third level. They lead the way up, and the group emerged onto the library level.